100 Themes
by Turq8
Summary: Poison.  Insanity.  Innocence.  Silence.  Memory. 100 one-shots written for Maristela Freesia's 100 theme challenge.   Check it out!
1. Theme 7: Breathe Again

**This is for Maristela Freesia's 100 Theme Challenge. You guys should check it out! This is theme number 7, Breathe Again.**

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Just keep breathing.

I can't breathe too deeply, because of the smoke that fills the air. A coughing fit wracks my body, and I'm forced to stop until it passes, then I'm gasping for air again.

"Mother! Where are you?" I choke out over the screaming echoing through the house, from the terrified shrieks of the people outside. I can hear some people yelling for order, trying to organize the fearful crowd, but there's too much chaos. I wish I could go join them right now, but I have to save my family first.

"Mother!" A hysterical edge creeps into my voice. I force myself to take slow, calm breaths as I crawl along the hallway to my mother's room. My hair is filled with soot, and it falls in my face, stinging my eyes. Determinedly, I push it away and continue on my hands and knees. I push open the door. Mother is curled onto her side with the sheets over her head, her body shaking. I inch over to her bed.

"Mother, we have to go," I say, tearing off a strip of cloth from my dress to hold over her nose and mouth.

"No, Maysilee. Stay. Don't go." Mother's voice is as hoarse as mine is. I realize she is having one of her episodes. She thinks I'm Maysilee, going off to the Hunger Games.

"Mother, I'm Madge, your daughter. And District 12 is being bombed. We have to get outside, so we can escape," I say, wasting precious breath, as I try to pull her out from under the covers. She fights back, but weakly. Under normal circumstances, I would be able to pull her out, but I'm weakened from the smoke, and these aren't normal circumstances.

I think of all the things I haven't done yet, and of all the things I have. Like giving Katniss my aunt's mockingjay pin. Like subtly planting ideas of how unfair the games are in her head. Like using my father's communications networks to organize uprisings in other districts and stay connected. These thoughts give me the strength for one final tug, and I pull with all my might.

Mother topples out of bed and we land in a heap on the floor. I push myself up and grab her hand to guide her to the door, but she doesn't make any effort to get up. She mumbles something that sounds like "leave me." As if. I try to drag her to the door, but my legs fold beneath me. Tears are rolling down my face, leaving grimy tracks on my cheeks. I don't know if they are from fear or the soot. All of a sudden, I feel tired.

_No. I can't rest. I have to get to safety._ My breaths are quick and shallow now, and I feel dizzy. I'm crying so much now. I'm not ready to die. I'm so close. I only have to get to the hall, down the stairs, and out the door. But I can't do that while dragging Mother.

_Then leave her,_ says the practical side of me, the side that wants to live more than anything. But I know I can't do that. I'll bring my mother or die trying. My thoughts wander. The screaming outside seems to be getting farther and farther away, the edges of my vision are getting fuzzy, like when we're watching T.V. and the power goes out in the district. We have a generator, but it's not very good. It's better than nothing. Faces swim in front of my eyes. One of them is my father. Katniss and Gale are there too. And then the black in the corner of my vision swarms over my eyes, and as I take one last breath, I see nothing.

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**So, what did you guys think? I like the thought that Madge totally helped orchestrate the rebellion, even if she didn't survive the bombing.**


	2. Theme 8: Memory

**Another one the next day! That almost never happens! But it's really short...**

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No matter how much I try to escape them, I have memories.

Memories of the games. Memories of Oceanus' head lying on the ground, separated from his body. Of the water from the dam lapping around my ankles, then slowly getting higher and higher. Of the trumpets announcing my victory. Of the families, angry because I won with "an unfair advantage," when I was only doing what was natural.

They all clamor for my attention. I cover my ears and close my eyes, but they still follow. I scream, and still they come. The only times they aren't there is when Finnick is. When he holds me, strokes my hair, and tells me it will all be alright. But other than those select few times, they make my life hell.

I'm the image of what a victor from District 4 shouldn't be. I shriek and cry when I should be strong and powerful.

But there are good memories too. I won't lie, most of them involve Finnick.

And some of them are memories of the future. Finnick and I getting married. Having a child together. Being free from the Capitol.

I like these memories.

But they do not come often, and they do not stay long. The evil ones are always much stronger. The more malicious they are, the more powerful. They stop at nothing. I fear they will never stop. Not until I die, like I should have all those years ago.

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** I think I drew some interesting parallels in this one. Can you guys find them? And poor Annie. I always liked her.**

**Please review! It made me sad when I didn't get any last time D8**


	3. Theme 9: Insanity

**3 for 3! I'm on a roll! Okay, they're really short, but still. **

**I think I've found a "voice" for this story. Are you guys picking up on it? I almost feel like it's a kind of "memoir" type thing, when you get each character and talk to them about something, a topic that's personal to them. Like when you see those quotes that say ""blah blah this is an example" -Turq, on writing voices." You know? Or does that get weird?**

**Anyway...**

**This is theme 9, insanity.**

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Insanity is an interesting topic. There are many parts to it.

What causes it?

How can it be helped?

Can it be helped at all? Annie and I have stayed up late into the night talking about it. She handles it well, and when she is herself it's as if she doesn't even realize her other side. I know that she knows, but she is incredibly good at hiding it.

What is it? Even with all our conversations about it, we still haven't been able to answer the question.

What exactly drives a person's mind to break?

Why can some people handle it better than others? She cracked right away while others have had years.

Why am _I_ not insane? I'm a prostitute for the Capitol. Capitol women with their strange body alterations and never-ending want would be enough to drive anyone crazy, literally.

People have asked how I can handle Annie when I've got so many other women who will never zone out on me. The answer is simple: Love.

Love and Insanity. We are one of the strangest pairings of people, but we're one of the best. The only couple close to being as dysfunctional-yet-perfect-together as we are is Effie and Haymitch. (They _think_ they've kept it secret, but _everyone_ knows it.)

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**;) Everyone totally knows that Effie and Haymitch have something going on. What do you think?**

**As a reminder for those of you who read the 8th Hunger Games, every review for this story is worth 5 SP! It's easy points!**


	4. Theme 55: Poison

**This one is probably my favorite so far. I really like how it turned out.**

**This is President Snow on theme 55, Poison.**

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Poison. The mere word sparks a small amount of primitive fear in every human. Every human other than myself, that is. When I hear it, something inside of me becomes excited, elated. Poison has always been near and dear to my heart.

One of my favorite arenas would be the arena for the second quarter quell- twice the usual number of children died that year. In addition to that, almost everything in the arena was poisonous. I say "would be" because of that stunt the victor that year pulled.

But I made sure he paid for that.

One slip of the fingers over the glass of someone who is challenging me. One sip later, they feel light-headed and weak. _Blame it on the alcohol._ They are dead within the hour. A sip from the glass myself, along with a bit of antidote of course, makes everyone think I am innocent. It's so easy to fool people here in the Capitol. Brainless idiots. If they stopped to think for a minute, they would realize that only people above me or equal to me in power die, yet there are no threats on my life. And it's so easy…

_"Presenting President Lindor and Vice President Snow," a voice announces as we enter the room. _This is supposed to be a democracy, but they treat it like an anarchy. Well, after tonight, I won't be "queen" anymore._ I think to myself, smirking a little. As we take our seats, the conversation around us resumes. I quietly listen, contributing little bits when I feel I've been silent for too long. Out of the corner of my eye, I observe Lindor drink 3 glasses of wine and start working on a fourth. This will be too easy. _

_When the dessert wines come out, I pretend to reach across his glass for a decadent chocolate strawberry. Concealed in my sleeve, a few drops of poison drip out into the President's glass of white wine. Even if someone was watching, it would simply appear that my sleeve was dripping from the water I had "accidentally" knocked over earlier. Of course, no one was ever watching. The food and conversation is too good. A few sips later, Lindor puts a hand to his head. _

_I turn and whisper to him, "Feeling a little dizzy from all that wine?" He nods and reaches for a glass of water. I do nothing to stop him; the poison is already working its way into his blood stream. Ten minutes later, he excuses himself from the table to go lie down for a little bit. I know he won't be coming back. I get up to leave as well, saying I have several meetings to attend to early tomorrow morning. As I walk towards the door, I see one of the servant boys, a non-Avox, staring at me. He saw, and he knows what really happened. No matter, he won't get the chance to tell anyone. I make sure he's an Avox before the sun is up the next day._

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**What do you think? I like the little flash-back to the poisoning of President Lindor. And I always found it amusing how they called it a democracy when it so clearly wasn't.**


	5. Theme 47: Snow

**Really short, I know, but I wanted to get this up. Where I live, we don't get snow very often. We got snow last week though! It was even better that we were on mid-winter break. I don't think Katniss would be thrilled about snow, because it makes it that much harder to hunt.**

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Prim and I are sitting at the table talking, as usual. Buttercup is weaving his way around the table legs and up into Prim's lap, where he curls up contentedly.

"At least promise me you'll think about getting Lady pregnant," she finishes, automatically beginning to stroke Buttercup's fur. I open my mouth to reply, to say that I would consider it, but she isn't looking at me anymore. She's staring past me, out the window, and the corners of her mouth are pulling up in a grin.

"Snow!" I turn to look out the glass, and see small white flakes floating towards the ground. Prim is already running outside with Buttercup in her arms, ignoring our mother's protests that she should, "put on a jacket if it's cold enough to snow." I grab both of our jackets and follow her outside. Her jacket is worn thin and bordering on too small, but it's better than no jacket. We're already partly used to the cold because the small fire in the stove doesn't keep the house as warm as it should. Prim is slowly spinning, gazing up at the grey sky. Her blonde eyelashes have already caught a few of the snowflakes, and her tongue is out as she tries to catch them. I can't bring myself to remind her what this means.

The first snow means the animals will go into hibernation and the birds will have left. Wearing several layers will restrict my movement, and it's impossible to sneak up on what little game there is because the snow crunches under my feet and alerts them to my presence. The hard winter months are coming swiftly, and that means months of starvation.

But for now, I let her play in the snow. There's no need to ruin the magic that comes from watching it snow.


	6. Theme 44: Young

**Another really short one. I don't know where this one came from. I guess it's kind of my view on the matter? Everyone is always complaining about how Prim and Rue are too young to be exposed to the events of the book series. While I agree with that, I feel like people put too much stock into their physical age and not their mental age.**

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Everyone thinks that they are too young. They need to be protected.

Katniss must go in her sister's place in the Hunger Games because Prim is only 12 years old, and that's much too young to die. Never mind that Katniss is only 4 years older, age 16. 12 is too young to die.

Rue is too young to experience the horrors of the Games. Never mind that she saw things in the fields that no one should ever have to see. 12 is too young to see these things.

There are other excuses. They are small. They look weak and helpless. But in the end, it all comes down to age. If they were small and appeared weak and helpless at age 18, people wouldn't have cared as much.

Forget that Prim saw her sister kill other children, some in cold blood.

Forget that Rue grew up with the danger of the Games as a simple and unavoidable fact of life.

They both starved with their families. Were they too young for that?

Rue always had the threat of a whipping hanging over her head if she didn't pick the fruit fast enough.

Prim would have died if it weren't for a certain boy with bread and a dandelion.

Rue and Prim, Prim and Rue. So much alike. They both found pleasure in small things; Rue in music, and Prim in Lady and Buttercup.

Rue is the oldest in her family, and she is still too young. Too young for what? To go into the Games? Everyone is too young to go into the Games. Rue and Prim are older than the Career tributes, but no one cares. The Careers who never had to starve, never had to worry for their family, and who were in the Games by choice.

Rue, who never should have made it past the bloodbath, gave Katniss the will to win.

Prim, who never should have gone in as a medic, gave Katniss the will to move on.

She tried to protect them both, but they helped her more than she could help them.

Now they will stay forever young, fresh as the plants for which they were named.

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**And I totally borrowed the last line. Not mine! It's Suzanne's, don't sue! Although if a lawyer was combing Fanfiction for someone to sue, they must be desperate for a case.**


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